Blue Grass and Roaches
by Wanamaker
Summary: He was the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, one of the Light's most feared enemy...yet destiny and prophecies are interesting things...AU ::COMPLETE::
1. Default Chapter

_A/N: A little fic I wrote a while back…I didn't intend it to be a HP-fanfiction at first, but somehow it could fit in strangely so it's officially a HP fanfiction now. Hmm…I guess this should be my first work of fiction, so be gentle. It is already finished, and will be posted periodically. Just…don't judge me by this piece of work; my writing skills and English have both improved since then. Now, enjoy!_

_**Summary: **Harry's raised by the Dark Lord ever since he was an infant, knowing only the bareness of the Dark Land and the brutal ways of the Dark creatures. His only knowledge of the "other place" and its grass and lively creatures comes from his trusted mentor Severus, yet is Severus really what he seems? Prince Neville has always been the one expected to save the day because of a prophecy, and when Harry's sent to the "other place," what would happen when the two meet..._

_**Warning: **A small hint of slash later on, very mild and nothing developed. I shall warn you when it come up then_

* * *

**Prologue**

The man bent over to look at the sleeping baby boy, his eyes penetrating. He was a stout man, and looked much younger than his age. His face was troubled, his black brows wrinkled. He had on an ordinary waist robe, worn from use, but he wore a sword with leaping horse, the symbol of royalty. Finally he raised himself to look at the woman in a black velvet robe besides the baby and let out a sigh of satisfaction

"What do you think?" She asked, her brown eyes tired but intense. One could tell that she had once been a fair lady, but her face was marked with a weariness and sadness that could not be overcome. Her thin, brown hair flew down her shoulders, and she wore a simple circlet on her head.

The man looked at the Queen, "I sense the power in him."

"Oh thank heavens, being my lord's only heir and all..." She let out a sigh, too, and sank into the chair.

"We need to announce the one's coming as soon as possible, tomorrow will probably do."

She looked up, surprised, "So soon? Would it not be better if the Council check with the results first?"

Lord Thales sighed, "Milady, we need him _now_. Not only to fend off the Dark Lord, but also to quell the mad dogs in our own kingdom. Melqen has been spreading lies about how the prophecy is false and the royal house no longer holds the power to rule for months now, and his influence fast growing. Besides, they will not attack so soon if they think we've got the one ready."

The Queen shivered at the mention of the Dark Lord and his army, the ones she lost her husband to. She sighed, but she looked resolute. Lady Longbottom might have too gentle a heart, yet she was no fool. "Announce the birth of Prince Neville and the coming of the one."

"Yes, milady," Thales bowed and left the chamber.

**Chapter 1**

Renfrew withdrew into a dark corner as soon as he sensed the presence of men, abandoning the piece of rotten meat he had just found. He was one of the last of his kind in this land since _they_ took over, and not without reasons. He watched through narrowed eyes, thinking about his ruined meal.

It was a boy, a rather small one at that. He had ebony hair and a pair of green eyes that seemed to shine through the night in a manner not unlike Renfrew's own. Renfrew licked his teeth; he looked no more than ten, and he could well turn _him_ into his dinner instead. His mouth watered at the thought of the delicate body. He waited, soundlessly, sharpening every of his senses, his back a perfect arch.

And he attacked.

Before he realized it, he was suspended in mid-air. Although none of his muscles was functioning, his inside trembled. The one who he had mistaken as a helpless little boy was a Master Hand, a _mage_, best of the best, and possibly the cruelest. Renfrew knew his fate then, and he was overcome by a sense of helplessness. Ten years, for ten long years he had been cautious, always hiding in the shadow. And now he had screwed himself up.

The boy looked at him, his eyes as cold as the deep autumn night. He raised his hand slightly -- and released him. Renfrew ran as fast as he could, not daring to trust his luck, and soon disappeared in the darkness.

Harry did not think of the pitiful dog he had set free as he walked. The ground was dry and hard, and as dark as coal; yet neither the ground nor the sharp stones left any trace on his white, bare feet. Severus, he needed to see Severus, fast.

Somewhere around him a stone flickered. _No, not today._ Harry turned, almost wearily, to face the four shadows that were now fast closing upon him.

They stood facing each other, without a word. And then there was suddenly the flashing of swords. Harry did not go for his sword; he let his attackers approach, let their hearts fill with false hope. Then, quick as lightening, he flicked his wand that had somehow slipped into his hand without any of his enemy's notice and muttered a few words. He turned away from his ambushers without a look, who were now lying on the ground, stupefied as Renfrew was.

Severus was standing besides his lonely cabin, waiting. "So you know," Harry whispered.

The older man did not speak; the candle light dancing on his face, leaving shadows here and there. "It was the first time that master…master asked me to kill," Harry continued, "It was a woman and a child, I didn't want to."

Anger flashed up Severus's face, he managed to croak, "Both?"

Harry shook her head, "Nay, only the child. But the woman would not let me… and anything that stands in the way…"

Severus laughed bitterly, "Well, congratulations, Harry of the Dark Land! Now you've even had your first kill, you should be ready in no time."

"Severus," Harry frowned, "You know I am not like them, you know I do not like to..."

Severus turned and was met with a pair of imploring eyes. There he was, looking more innocent than half the boys his age, and there he was talking about killing in such a lighthearted way, as if it were a game. Severus's mouth curved cruelly, "Do you not? Why, you are just like them; born to kill, to destroy, to shatter everything in this world! What do you know about liking?"

To his satisfaction, Harry went very pale; he almost whispered, "I could have been like them, I could have done my duty while enjoying every second of it, without nightmares haunting for me…Severus, if not for you." Then he understood; Seveurs was mad, because he had taught him to not love killing, yet he had still done so under _Master's _bidding. He saw himself in Harry, a puppet of Master, unable to control his own life. Well, then Severus just needed time, to realize that it was not Harry's fault. Three days, Harry thought to himself, should be enough for his mentor to recover.

"Severus?" he asked tentatively.

Severus did not look up, and when he did, Harry had disappeared into the darkness again. Shame over came him, and he wanted to call the little boy back, to shelter him from the dark, cursed land that sometimes even made he himself shudder. Yet he knew it was the child's home; the darkness and the bareness of the land the only things he was ever familiar of.

* * *

_A/N: Er…alright, hope you all liked it; tell me what do you think! : )Oh and sorry this is rather short...future chappies might be longer, but I'm afraid this fanfic has rather short chapters. _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: New chapter!_

**ossini:** Thank you for reviewing! lol...let's...not.../snickers/ be so blurt about...poor /giggles/ Neville's shortcomings. Although for the purpose of the story, he would be less clumsy and OOC. He has more backbone since he doesn't have a stern grandmother looming over him, and he is expected to save the world, after all.

**fullmoon:** Thank you!

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

The fourth morning after the night, Severus was standing outside his cabin, ready to turn back and enjoy his just-cooked-lunch, when Harry came again; he was carried inside. Long ago teh boy had stricken a bargain with his master that he did not have to go to Severus every day, but for everyday he was not there, he would be punished until he agreed to return.

The soldiers left without a word. Left alone, Harry moved his head a little so that he could see better, and said in a quivering voice, "Oh Severus, it is so nice to see you again."

Severus frowned, "No need to pretend now that they are gone; I know the so-called punishment has no effects on you now."

Harry carefully rested his head on his arm; when he spoke again, all the weakness from his voice was gone, "No, it was not the beating," he agreed. And Severus heard him sniffing the air. "It was the food, you know, "he added decidedly, "I should be better off after a meal."

Severus sighed with exasperation, "Well, what are you waiting for then? You don't expect me to feed you now do you?"

Harry looked at him wishfully, then he sighed and said in mock hurt, "No, I did not expect that much." With that he jumped up from the floor with much ease and nimbleness, and was at the table helping himself the next second.

"So…" Harry had finished consuming the last bit of her meal, leaving the plates shining and was now looking at him expectantly.

Severus groaned, "No, I do not want to talk about that night."

"Well then, are you leaving here?"

Severus was much taken aback by this unexpected question, "No…why?"

"I heard people talking, when they thought I was out, that is, about my leaving you."

Severus sighed, he had not realized how fast Harry had grown, "How old are you now, eleven?"

"Almost twelve," Harry replied proudly.

Severus winced. "What is it?" Harry asked, and then he knew. "It is me then, isn't it? I am the one who is leaving…"

"Well, not until you are twelve."

"That's in four days then," Harry said, "and master will send me to the other place." Severus did not speak.

Harry ignored his obvious desire to stay silent as he always did when he chose to, "Severus, you came from the other place, didn't you?"

Severus almost jumped with surprise, "And what led you to make such an assumption?" He glared.

Harry looked right back, "You are the only one here who really knows the other place. You told me about its beauty, its people, its cultures, even though I would not understand. The others, they only tell me about how they conquered their towns, destroyed their land, and killed their men. And you are not like the others, you never fought, you just tended the wounded and taught."

Severus snapped, "I only told you those because I knew you'd use them one day. If you go there only talking about how you'd kill their people you'd be in trouble in no time, Master Hand or not."

Harry smiled dreamily, "But isn't it grand, maybe I would understand 'blue' or 'grass' when I actually see them, or is the grass 'green'?"

Severus sighed, his expression unreadable_. But you are only sent there to destroy them, to make that land the same as this one._

* * *

Severus stooped over the sleeping boy, lost in thought. Harry came to him earlier that evening and had simply stated, "Severus, I want to stay at your cabin today." There was no other explanation, and none was needed.

Severus almost laughed then, "Oh, you almost sounded as if you would miss me."

Harry looked up at him, his voice sincere, "Of course I will."

Severus sighed again over the puzzle that was Harry Potter. His lips trembled, but his hand was steady as he held out the dagger. He fingered it absent-mindedly. It must be done. He had waited too long already, in vain hope that he might be able to turn Harry to the Light side. The boy was dangerous, and this might well be the last time he was in the power of Severus. He had always held a soft spot for the child, yet it was foolish of him to hope that he would be able to break the bond the Dark Lord held over the boy. He had, after all, witnessed the ritual being performed in the Dark River himself.

He gave the boy another look; the child looked ever so tranquil (but then Severus' own Sleep Potion was always efficient). It was hard to believe that such an innocent-looking thing would be the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. _Innocent-looking?_ Severus sneered wryly. Heck, Harry even had his first kill, and talked about it in such light terms. Severus' vision was clouded with anger and he almost choked with emotion as he thought of Harry's first kill. The boy was nothing more than a killing machine, a destroyer, who heeded no one but her Master! His heart hardened at the thought. He must destroy the boy before it was too late; it was the last thing he could do for his fallen king. He had served the one he hated most thirty long years; now he must carry out his mission all along. He must destroy the child.

The dagger fell down on the floor, and Severus bent down, suddenly feeling very weary. He had failed, failed his people, his land, his king. He looked up at the sleeping boy, and, with a sudden urge, whispered to his ear. The boy did not stir. Severus sank down to the floor, wholly spent. When he woke up the next day, the bed was empty, and Harry was gone.

* * *

It was a rather chilling morning in the kingdom, there was no precipitation, no wind, just the penetrating cold. Shacklebolt looked up at the still visible moon and cursed the weather. It was just his luck; his first day as the gatekeeper, and he got the coldest day there ever was in the kingdom, and it was only spring. Through the thick fog, though, he could hear the clear sound of hooves. Shacklebolt straightened his helmet and placed his hand on the handle of his sword, "Who is there?" he called. No answer came.

But the cold did. Shacklebolt felt the coming of it, a cold that penetrated his armor, his bear-skin robes, his skin…He felt it taking over, freezing his limbs, his torso, advancing towards his heart. "Who…who is there?" he called again, but realized that only a croak came out of his throat, inaudible. Shacklebolt wanted to call for others, but his trembling hands would not allow him to find the whistle. Suddenly out of the fog leaped a great, black warhorse. The beast neighed ominously at Shacklebolt, its nostrils expanding and its eyes blood red. It was then Shacklebolt noticed that something – someone was sitting on the horse. He looked up, and his eyes was met with a pair of green eyes that were colder than the coldest winter nights. But just then he felt the cold let go of him, vanishing inch by inch, as did the fog. Shacklebolt sank down to the floor, panting.

"Are you alright?" a child's voice asked.

Shacklebolt looked up to see a small boy who looked no more than eleven. He had midnight black hair and very pale skin. The great black horse was besides him, now looking more peaceful than ever. Shacklebolt looked into his emerald eyes uncertainly, yet they offered him nothing but the innocent look of his age. Shacklebolt felt shame coming upon his face; his first day on duty, and he started imagining things and mistaking a child for some devil. "Yeah, right," he cleaned his throat, and attempted to regain some authority "What are you doing here? Why do you want to enter the kingdom?"

The boy looked at him sadly, "Surely you can tell that this horse is not mine..."

Shacklebolt was about to demand for a clearer answer when a thought came across his mind, "You, you mean there is new attack…" He almost whispered the question. The Dark Lord's last invasion was not easily forgotten; and hearing of attack after twelve years of peace was alarming news indeed.

The boy nodded, "I am the only one escaped from my village…Pa would not let me stay, and Old Floke was scared, I couldn't stop him from running…" He looked down.

Shacklebolt didn't know what to do, he patted him on the shoulder embarrassedly and said (in what he hoped would be a soothing tone), "Well, well, now you go in and find your kin, and I'll sound the warning."

The boy nodded and called for the horse. Shacklebolt looked as they disappeared into the city, not noticing the fact that although the boy claimed to have ridden on horseback for days, his garments, though crude, were spotlessly clean.

* * *

_A/N: Here it is. Hope you enjoyed it. I apologize for its shortness, but as I mentioned before, this fic is finished already, and it does tend to have short chapters. I don't see anyway to fix that unless I change the fic fundamentally...so please bear with it. _

_**Important: **I am really, really in need of a beta, I would really appreciate it if you all would enlighten me as to where I could find them. And please contact me at wanamaker05 (at) yahoo. com if you are interested/have information or just drop a review! Thank you!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, school has been ridiculously busy. Here is the update...do people read this thing anyways?_

**Chapter 3:**

Harry looked around him excitedly; it was a world so different from his own. He took special notice to the ground, because of the grass Severus had told his so many times. It was even livelier than Severus had managed to describe, and he had refused to believe in such things! A strange feeling such as he never experienced before filled his heart; at first he was alarmed, but soon realized that he enjoyed it. Harry bent down to the ground, and whispered to the grass, "So are you 'blue,' or are you 'green?'"

"The grass is green, and it cannot answer you." A voice answered.

Harry was rather annoyed at being so rudely interrupted, but he raised his head with a smile, "Thank you."

The boy nodded gravely. He had short, brown hair and a pair of round, brown eyes. Judging from his clothes he was no more than a peasant boy, but Harry reached to measure him anyhow. And he was startled, almost afraid to realize that the boy is a very, very powerful mage, so powerful that even Harry could not measure exactly how strong he was. As far as he knew, he could be more powerful than he was. _He better be someone important_, thought Harry, _master would be in trouble if a mere child of the other place is so full of magic_. When he got up from the ground and called Floke to him, he realized that the other boy was staring at him – he was measuring Harry as well. Harry smirked, blocking his Sight here and there, letting him know that he was of some power, but nothing out of the ordinary. He was relieved to see the boy put up his haughty face again; apparently Harry was of no big interest to him. _If I could block his Sight_, thought Harry, _then perhaps I am more powerful after all_.

The boy yawned lazily and spoke, "I'm Kerr. Who are you? You are not one of the natives of the kingdom."

Harry shook his head, "I'm Harry; I come from the Village of Althea, that is, if three is still a village left."

Kerr raised one of his eyebrows, "A new attack? Is the Dark Lord moving against us again?"

Harry shrugged, "That is not something we ordinary peasants can understand."

The boy snorted but did not speak. As of an afterward thought, though, he hastened to ask, "Do you have kin in the kingdom that you can turn to?"

Harry made sure that his face looked grave, "Nay, no one."

"Well then you can travel with me, and when we reach the capital I shall find you a helter," the boy said decidedly.

_Nobles,_ thought Harry, now quite sure of the boy's identity, _not even bothered to ask me for my opinions first about my own fate_. He bowed and replied, "You are most kind, sir."

Kerr was obvious quite happy to hear Harry call him _sir_; he put up a much friendlier air afterwards.

Harry sat silently as Kerr led the way. The other boy surely knew this land. Thus he left the work of finding the way to Kerr and absorbed himself in the sceneries around. The green little hills with trees that were even greener; some little creatures, (flowers or birds, Harry decided) were dancing in between, and Harry could hear the sound of a little creek singing.

Soon they were at the edge of a small village. Kerr walked to the best inn without a thought when Harry spoke, "Hmmm, Kerr, that seems like the best er…what do you call it here…oh, inn in this place…"

Kerr waved his hand carelessly, "Do not trouble yourself about the money."

_Idiotic boy_. Harry bit his lips while trying to come up with a warning without making it too obvious that he knew things a peasant boy should not. Harry had never lodged in an inn before, but _surely_ this would be common sense. "Well, I was just thinking…of course it's just at my place, things might be different here…but my father was an innkeeper too…and we folks don't feel easy when little _peasant_ _children_ go live in the bet inn in town."

Kerr stared at his hard, Harry blinked back innocently. Finally Kerr said, "Let's find a lesser one then." Harry blushed as would be expected of a peasant boy being addressed by one of his superior. _Severus, I did learn your lessons well._

When they managed to settle down, Harry looked at the room in delight while Kerr gasped in disgust, "Roaches! And Mice too! This is the first time I had to live in such rooms."

"Oh, so those cute little creatures are roaches and mice? Mind you, which is which, are those hairy ones mice or are those shiny ones with hells?"

Kerr looked at him in disbelief, "But I thought you were an innkeeper's son."

Harry went slightly pink, "Well, where we live is so cold that we don't see much living things." Then he let his eyes water and hung his head, just to make sure that even that insensitive boy would detect the improperness of reminding Harry of his homeland again, in case he decided to ask his what kind of things did live there (Harry was never a good zoology student).

* * *

Harry lay open-eyed on his bed and looked out at the moon; he could tell that the other boy was fast asleep in the other room. It was a beautiful night; Harry turned so he could take a better look - when a dark figure jumped into the room before his very eyes. Harry did not make a sound, this was getting very interesting.

The stranger seemed startled to find a pair of intense green eyes staring at him; however he soon resumed self-control and asked coolly, "You do not mind my turning on the light now, do you?"

Harry smiled, "Light all the candles if you wish, just that a lighted room in the middle of the night is rather suspicious."

The stranger studied his and almost chuckled, "You are most kind, but I am not what you think I am." With that he lighted the candles gracefully.

Harry winced at the sudden brightness of the room and peered at the intruder. He was a stout, middle aged man, with streaked brown hair and a hard, weathered face. His clothes were of the finest fabric but were now worn in many places; Harry raised one of his eyebrows.

"Do not be afeard," he said with a crisp smile, "I am only here to look for a person." As he spoke, Kerr jumped into the room, sword at hand, "Disarm this instant or regret your choice forever!" he shouted.

The man frowned, "Is that how you greet your uncle?"

Kerr almost jumped at the voice and the next second he was giving the man a big hug, "Uncle…how, how come?"

Thales' face was clouded, "Bad tidings are rising, my nephew, and you are needed."

Kerr blushed and murmured rather embarrassedly, "Right, I was about to return." Remembering Harry, he turned and said, "It's just, I promised him that I'd take him to the capital."

Thales looked at Harry, his eyes thoughtful, "I'll see that he is taken care of. And you have no time to lose; the carriage is ready; leave, now."

Thales did not take his eyes off his nephew until he left, then he turn to study Harry again. Harry met his eyes and waited. Finally Thales said, "I would have loved to find out who you are and what were you doing with my nephew, but the tidings are bad, and I have no time for such trivial things. Here are twenty galleons, and I trust that you can manage your way to the capital if you still wish to go." With that, he put on his cloak and left the room.

Harry thought things over: Kerr and that stranger were surely of some importance in the kingdom, and the twenty galleons wouldn't hurt, either. For now, anything can wait until tomorrow. He relaxed on his bed, and was ready to resume his sleep when his room was intruded a second time. Harry looked up and saw a man in plain peasant clothes. Although he had on the plainest garment possible, Harry took him as what he was at first glance: one of Master's servants. He sat up on his bed and raised one of his eyebrows in silent question.

The man simply handed him the letter and left as noiselessly as he came. Harry's hand trembled as he opened the black wax, the message was simple:

**_Bring back the Mirror of Awena._ **

After making sure he did not miss anything, he folded the note in an experienced way, murmured a word, and let the dust fell from his hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Rhiamon, the capital of the kingdom found herself awake in an ordinary, warm spring day. The people of Rhiamon went about their businesses as usual, and no one paid any attention to a small boy in white.

Harry was fascinated by the city scenes; there was something different about the people here. The young man was throwing glances at that young girl near her window; and the girl was pretending not to look at him; an old couple was fighting over who was to blame for the broken vase; a mother was holding a crying child. Back at home, people give each other no more glances than was necessary, and if they did look at you for long, that usually meant they were about to kill you or be killed. Harry felt strange; he felt empty. There was no connection between him and those stupid emotions. But somehow the feelings he had at the little woods came back again. Harry shook his head, _I have work to do_.

It did not take him long to find out that Lord Thales was the younger brother of the late Queen, the uncle of the Prince Neville, the one that was said to be able to defy even the Dark Lord. It also did not take him long to realize that prestigious Thales may sound, he was not in full control of the kingdom. The relationship between the royal house and the Council had always been less than friendly, and there were also menacing warlords. Harry took mental notes of all these facts; they could come in handy for Master later.

To find the Mirror, Rhiamon would be the best place to start. Traditionally the Mirror had always been passed along the royal house, yet it was not seen in more than ten years, and no one knew for sure where it was hid – or if the royal house even had it. There were rumors, but Harry decided to take a look at the palace first anyway; after all, if Master wanted to take over, he would have to face it someday. What he saw did not soothe his worries: Hogwarts was surrounded by enormous, bronze walls; walls so tall that only the tops of the three North Towers were seen from outside, walls so ancient and powerful that Harry knew they would not fall easily even if master's whole army were somehow to lay siege to it. The walls were surprisingly smooth, as if they were made by a whole piece of bronze, with symbols Harry did not recognize glittering even in daylight. But Harry also realized that the spells that held the walls had not been repaired for at least a thousand years. The royal house was indeed awane now, even though it had once been fair and radiate, commending and governing with tremendous magic and power. Harry couldn't help but sigh.

"The one will come back, the one will raise the flag of fierce silver horse again, and the bronze walls of Rhiamon will be repaired, the kingdom of Allirea reunited!" The words were said with such conviction that even Harry found his faith in his master tremble for the first time, and his own heart fill with fear, the fear for the ineluctable. He bent down, almost sick, and found to his greater surprise that a part of him actually rejoiced at the words. Disgusted with himself, he looked up to see an old, boney woman standing before him, her left eye shining, where her right eye should be was an empty, black hole. Her claw-like hands holding out to Harry, she murmured in the same shrill voice, "I saw you, I see you…"

Harry had seen much more false beings back at the Dark Land, but the sight of this woman filled him with an irrational fear; he stumbled back and fell – when a pair of strong arms caught him. He turned his head and saw a middle aged man. "Don't be troubled, she's just an old fool, hanging around here for several years now." Harry looked, and indeed as he spoke, some other market people had dragged the old woman away. The woman did not struggle, but her grey eye was fixed on Harry, on her mouth an eerie smile.

Harry left the market place before the palace hurriedly, his heart still racing. He decided to find a place to lodge first, then he'll worry about the Lord Thales and all.

* * *

As he put down his bag on the crude, wooden table, something fell out of it. Harry picked it up and was surprised to find that it was a small, silver horse, its emerald eyes glittering. He was convinced that the old woman had slipped it into his bag earlier, and his first instinct was to throw it away, but Harry knew better than that. In a world like his, every tiny thing could be of some mysterious power. He wrapped it in a cloth and placed it in the deepest layers of his pocket so that he would not see it lying around.

Just then trumpets sounded at the North Gate. Harry went downstairs and saw people gathering around the streets. "What is it?"

"Ah," said he, "I forgot you just came. It is the Lord Thales, he is leaving the city."

Harry did not waste one more second; he thanked the innkeeper, rushed upstairs, left enough coins on the table, and jumped out of the window. He knew something was fishy, why would Lord Thales announce his departure in such an obvious way at such a time? But for now he had no other choice than to run to the North Gate and somehow manage to travel with the lord's escorts.

* * *

Harry looked through the window, and was surprised to see the face of the man he met at the little village four days before. He furrowed his brows thoughtfully…if that man was Thales…did that mean…_Kerr was Neville_.

He frowned; he knew it would be hard to dig out a secret from someone like Thales – if the encounter in the inn was anything to come by, and master's task must be done. Yet he couldn't very well just go up and ask…besides, he wasn't even sure if Thales had the mirror.

Just then, the boy Kerr – Neville walked into the room, "It is all prepared, uncle."

"Very well. Now, we still have much journeying to do tomorrow, go rest now."

Harry watched the two part and turn off their lights. He listened until their breaths became soft and regular and slipped into the room noiselessly. Not that he expected Thales to carry the mirror around if he indeed had it, yet it wouldn't hurt to do a light search. He might even have some important information, a map, perhaps. Harry gazed around the room; as it was just a temporary lodging, he did not expect Thales to hide anything in the room. Naturally, his gaze fell upon the sleeping man himself. He decided that it was too elementary for him to hide anything in his clothes or boots, but where could he hide something?

Harry looked at older man's sword and opened the blade; but instead of what he had expected to find, he found gold. He frowned, traveling with a large amount of money, not to mention with the Prince, was quite suspicious. Perhaps, thought him, Thales was going to _buy_ something back, perhaps even the Mirror itself. Things would be simple then; he merely had to follow their track.

Quietly he left, wrapped himself with his mantle and fell asleep under a tree just outside the house.

But before he slept for long, he was awakened by small sounds. Two black figures slid down the wall even as he watched. Then he knew. The obvious departure was used to throw everybody off their track; the escort would continue travel in the Lord and the Prince's name, but they would be heading somewhere else. Harry was up and alert in a moment, his eyes shining with excitement like a true courser. He silently went for Floke and disappeared with the two men in the dark.

The sun was dancing on the horizon now, Harry noted. It was no easy job following them as the roads were almost deserted besides them, but Harry was well trained, as was Floke. For a horse her size, she was unnaturally quiet. Now they were crossing a small forest. A layer of green moss that seemed like thors thick was on the floor, absorbing any sound of the hooves. The trees were small but thick, with long, beard-like branches. Suddenly Thales and the Prince stopped, for a small man was standing before them. He was dressed in a yellow robe, his small, black eyes staring at them like a fox. "No followers?" Harry heard him ask.

Thales nodded, "You can trust my word."

The fox-like man spit, "And the gold?"

"No gold until we see the Mirror."

The man nodded, but instead of taking out the mirror, he waved for them to follow him.

Harry left Floke just as Thales and the Prince did their horses, she followed up noiselessly. They walked until they were in the depth of the forest, then the man walked up to a particularly thick tree. He tapped on its smooth trunk and somehow opened a door. Harry could dimly make out a stair way at him distance; he watched as the three disappeared into the hole.

He ran over as the door began to slid close and stopped it with a wave of his hand. He looked down; it was a stairway, a slippery-looking one at that. Shrugging, he frowned and jumped in, closing the door behind him; the men were sure to suspect something if they see light coming through the hole. The air inside was moist, smelling that of mosses. The stairs were wet and steep, but Harry ran down it swiftly, not making any sound either. He could soon see the torch light and therefore slowed down.

After a final turn, the stairway ended as abruptly as it began; Harry was facing an ancient, wooden door. The light he saw earlier was obviously from the two candles lighted besides it. Harry knew it was no ordinary door and was fortified by magic. He frowned; it was impossible to blast it open by force without alarming the people within - unless, of course, that he can find the correct way to open it. He placed his hand on the handle of the door; and, to his surprise, the door glowed. On the mean time, he heard murmurs filling the room, "All…bow to…the…true heir…" He took a step back, afraid that some defensive spells were at work; but the door simply opened.

Harry took a breath and looked in, behind the door was a long hallway, the three men was no where to be seen. He stepped in and looked around; the wall and the floor seemed to be of pure mud, with water dripping from the ceiling, which was made of green stones. Harry flew down the hallway and was relieved to see Thales and the man in yellow still bargaining in the little room at the end of the hallway.

"Alright," Harry heard the man groan. He pulled out what seemed like a weed on the muddy wall, and held out a small leather bag with great care.

Harry didn't know what drove him to it, but somehow she knew Master would not be happy if Thales or the Prince looked at the mirror. Thus he concentrated on his power and let it loose. The three men docked while the walls shook, sending a rain of mud and small stones alike. Thales pulled his nephew down near him while Neville tried to use his power to stabilize the channel.

It was no difficult task and soon the shaking stopped. When they got up however, Lucius the Glorious Hand was lying on the floor, unconscious. Thales bent the man over and searched frantically for the leather bag, but it was gone.

"What happened? Is he…dead?" Neville asked.

Thales shook his head, "No, he's just unconscious. This is fishy, very fishy…the Mirror is gone…perhaps he did this so he doesn't have to show us the mirror…but I was sure he was desperate for the gold…"

"Uncle, what is the mirror, that it is so important?"

Thales patted him, "Never you mind. It…er…was a tradition…a talisman, that's all"

_A/N: There, two chappies at once! This should make up for the delay. And please read and review!_


	5. Chapter 5

**eriee :**Thank you! Is this soon enough?**  
zi snake: **Thank you so much Hope you'd enjoy this chappie, too

**Chapter 5:**

Harry saw the black, charred land again; the coldness and unnatural quietness were ever so familiar. He looked around and saw only the black earth, with ugly white stones exposed like bones here and there. The cold, blood-red sun was still in the grey sky, but three purple moons had already risen. The sound of Floke's hooves echoed through the land, and suddenly Harry found himself missing the humming of the trees and the noisy market of Rhiamon. In his pocket he held the Mirror of Awena, a small, unnoticeable silver mirror that would not have called people's attention if they didn't know its name (although it did glow annoyingly when Harry first took it out of its bag). Harry did not know its use, but he did not wonder, in fact he did not even look at it longer than was necessary to put it securely into his pocket; for servants do not wonder, they obey.

His arrival was unannounced, but he found Master's servants waiting for him; He knew, He always knew.

"He does not wish to see you today, leave the Mirror and leave." One of the man clad in black said in a cold monotone.

Harry handed him the Mirror without a word and left them. He was grateful that Master did not wish to see him today. He was too confused by his own feelings to face that terrible mass of black fire. But Severus would sort things out, and by tomorrow he would be alright again.

He ran to Severus's lonely cabin as he always did, but he did not see the familiar smoke rising form its chimney. "Severus?" he gave the door a small push and it cracked open. Harry was dismayed to find a layer of dust resting on the door handle; _I've been gone for only three weeks, what happened to you? _He was not surprised to find the cabin quiet and lifeless, a thing layer of brown dust covering the simple furniture; he had expected the scene even at the door, but his heart had refused to believe so until now. Severus had left him, worse; he might even be dead right now (which is a more possible explanation). Harry knew it was useless to ask, as nobody cared about anybody else, and master would tell him if he needed to know. He sat down on the little wooden bed that intrigued so many memories until sleep took over.

* * *

Harry awoke with a headache, and had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. He raised his head and saw the four figures that were only too familiar. "Thanks for not attacking me while I was sleeping, "Harry said, sitting up, "When will you gave up? I did not ask to be Master's favorite. And I'll be out of the way soon so you can try to regain your favor." 

One of the men laughed coldly, like the other three, he was dressed in black as was the custom for the Dark Lord's servants. His face was cold and had two scars marking across it. "That we do not know," he said silkily, "What we are certain is that now you don't have that old fool to protect you. We made sure of _that_."

Harry's heart raced, but he said casually, "Nay, you would not dare to touch him. Master needs him for the potions."

The man laughed again, "What if he was found out? What if Master condemned him to his death because he was a spy?"

Harry felt anger rushing up his face; he replied quietly, "Then you will pay."

The Serpent Brothers looked at each other, they had experience much battling and evil fighting but for the first time fear crept into their hearts. They raised their swords in harmony.

Harry looked at them in a surprisingly calm way, his eyes clouded by anger: for in his heart he knew they did not lie about Severus's fate.

The four swords danced in the air like four snakes, and came rushing towards Harry like lightening. Harry did not dodge as would be expected, instead he came to them and caught them with his left hand; blood came but he took no heed to it. He mustered his power, concentrated on the four blurry figures and released it. The power went as he commanded, shattering its victims.

When Harry looked again he saw only four broken blades. _There, I had done it again_:_ I had killed them_, thought he, kneeling down to the floor. _I had killed them; I had blasted them to pieces, in Severus's own cabin._ He looked down at his bloody hands; _I am just like them_ …

It's then one of master's messengers came again, he stepped over the swords and remains and read the message as if he had not seen anything out of the ordinary "Come to me."

Harry looked up stupidly, not fully grasping the meaning of it until he heard Floke's neighing. Still half dazed, he stumbled outside, mounted his old horse, and rode to the Dark Palace.

The black fog grew thicker as he rode, but Harry was familiar with this land. He soon saw the green fires of the gate. It was impossible to see the whole castle in a fog so thick that now Harry could hardly breathe, the enormous gate was marked by a ring of green fire, and the black gate opened noiselessly upon his arrival, serving as a bridge. He rode onto it cautiously, the Black River Arawn underneath it called to him, inviting him to join it. Any less powerful person would have fallen into it, only to be carried away and never return again. But Harry had had dealings with it ever since he was five. As he rode into the long hall, he waited as usual and did not stir when the gates closed again and he was swallowed by a total darkness. He had never traveled beyond this level of the castle; his master would always come, to give him more instructions.

Suddenly Floke neighed nervously, and Harry knew He had come. He slid down the horse, and knelt down. Black fire appeared out of no where, making a throne, and in it sat no other than the Dark Lord himself. He wore black armors of some sort and a mask. Where his eyes should have been were burning black fire, and he wore a black crown with a red hue unnervingly resembled that of blood. Harry trembled before this tall figure; the pair of black fire pierced his eyes, blinding him even though he had kept them shut.

"My Lord…"he gasped, "I have came back with the Mirror of Awena, what more do you ask of me, your most humble servant?"

_His_ voice was surprisingly peasant, a low, drawing tone, it and the power of the great being held Harry to Him, binding him tight, making him weep with the resolution to serve Him body and soul. "Harry," it spoke, "My most faithful, time has come that my banner should wave above the Kingdom of Allirea and turn it into a silent beauty like this land."

Harry's heart was filled with excitement and joy at his Master's vision; he kissed the ground before Him.

"And you shall ride to war in my name, break the bronze walls of Rhiamon, and conquer the kingdom for me."

"Yes, Master." Harry said with much resolution, tears still pouring out of his eyes, "I shall go this instant!"

"No, you are not yet of age, four more years, and the world shall trembled at the feet of the Masked Rider." And with that, He was gone. Harry turned and mounted Floke, still with the dazed smile on his face. But somehow, he did not experience the absolute joy as he did every other time after he received master's orders; a small part of his mind kept reminding him of the grass, the roaches, and the market place, and Harry could not silence it.

* * *

"How sure are you about his powers?" 

"I taught him for twelve years! Even as a child he is the most powerful and cold-blooded being I've ever seen, sometimes I wonder if he were the Dark Lord's own kin."

"But he is only a child; maybe we could turn his to the good side? He liked you, after all. "

Severus felt in his heart a stab, but he bit his lips and replied, "No, I saw the Dark Lord bound the child to himself; he will always be His servant. And in four years he will be of age."

"Then we must destroy him," replied Thales gravely.

"What about our own powers, the Prince?"

"Alas, the Mirror was taken by that boy, so we have no way of confirming it, but the Council and I myself have all felt his power; he is the one."

Severus fell silent at that, the candle light dancing dangerously in his eyes.

* * *

_A/N: Now, review please_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This sets four years after the last chapter, when the Seventh War had just begun._

_Warning: This chapter features Tom Riddle with major OoCness._

**Chapter 6:**

Ron stood on the walls of Lamellae, besides him a whole army of Allierans. It was a moonless night, and rather cold; a thin layer of frost had settled on Ron's brows, yet he hardly noticed. The knots of his hands were dead white from force as he clenched to his bow; his hands shook a little. It was so quiet that Ron thought he could hear his and his comrades' heart beats. Someone cursed below him.

Ron looked around, all he could see were hundreds and hundreds of soldiers dressed in the blue armor like he did, and he felt more confident; surely such a mighty army could not be defeated easily, even if the enemy was the Dark Lord. Ron was one of those Valmier, those who were from the new generation and had never experienced the terror when the Dark Lord rode into the kingdom fifty years ago during the Sixth War. But he was in no way a neophyte in warfare. The kingdom had not forgotten about the last invasion, always training its young about fighting and discipline.

And they had gotten the one now; Prince Neville was sixteen, just of age. He would fend of the Dark Lord just like King Avon did before him. Ron thought of the prophecy and managed to expel the last seed of fear; he was ready. His eyes clouded as he thought of how he would shrug and say, "The Dark Lord? No I did not feel a bit scared;" and how his father's eyes would shine with joy and Hermione would blush with pride.

Ron stretched, and it was then he realized that it was cold. He brushed away the frost on his bow and clasped his hands together for a few moments. But it did not help; on the contrary, Ron felt the cold penetrate his armor and robes, freezing his exposed fingers. He cursed and spat, and it froze in the mid- air. Looking around Ron realized he was not the only one affected by the cold; he could see figures shifting around uncomfortably; somewhere near the gate came people yelling, "But sir, the oil is frozen," the fear and uncertainty in their voices apparent. Ron was not quite so sure of victory now; he stared at the black horizon, lest the enemy should show up unexpectedly. "With cold cometh the Dark Lord, it was just like this the last time…" Ron heard a soldier murmur besides him; he was an Old One. Ron replied, "But the Dark Lord had not come this time, it was just his followers…"

The man did not answer but kept murmuring, "A hooded figure on a great black warhorse, with a mask of black flame…"

"Damn I wish Prince Neville is with us right now…" thought Ron, but Neville was called away three days ago, for some serious fighting elsewhere. He heard someone gasp and looked up, the enemy had come; dark figures were rising on the horizon. He drew his bow and managed to nock an arrow with his now numb hands.

There, riding the very front and leading the black army was a hooded figure in black; the black warhorse under it just as fierce, its black mask a wall of flame. _It is him._ Neville felt fear penetrate his heart, the courage and confidence he mustered a few moments ago vanished as quickly as the last warmth in the air…

* * *

Lord Thales sat down in his tent and opened a map, just then another man stepped into the room. Thales stood up, "So you've heard?"

Severus nodded gravely, "Three thousand defending soldiers, Lamellae had still fallen, and young Tom…"

Thales scowled and waved his hand impatiently, "Let's stick to the official things first. I heard reports saying that the Dark Lord rode himself…"

Severus sighed, "No, he would not engage himself so early in the game."

"But…"Thales started, then his eyes widened, "You mean…it was him?"

Severus nodded, "I would think so."

"But you said he has a strong repulsion for killing."

"That could have been his acting, and it was four years ago anyhow…much would have been changed, perhaps he's had a new mentor since."

Thales smiled bitterly, "You know, Severus I don't blame you for wanting to get out of that pit of hell as fast as possible, but I've always though that if you had stayed and taught his more…"

Severus smiled a wry smile, "I would have stayed if I could…" clearing his throat, he asked, "What about Neville?"

Thales looked less troubled for the first time, "He is really doing well; where we have him we win." After a while he added, "They would meet sooner or later, and then we shall see."

"Neville was the most gifted I've ever seen, and I would think he's probably the one even without the mirror to confirm it…but there was always something unnerving about that other boy…Oh well, as you said, we shall see."

Thales looked out of the tent, "I hope not for long; one third of the cities had already fallen, and we do not have many more to spare."

* * *

Harry looked at the mask; its fierce black fire was gone now. The surface was quite smooth and cool, and he ran a finger over it absently. He looked at himself in the mirror; a pale young man with emerald eyes that were too big for his lean face stared back at him. It felt weird to see his own reflection, as he usually kept his mask on even around his master's men. _The Masked Rider_. A bitter smile spread across his face; instead of hating him, now even his own followers were afraid of his – ever since the fate of the Serpent Brothers spread. Having the world tremble at your name was not exactly a good thing, decided Harry, but it did not trouble him as much as he would have expected. He had shut himself away from the rest of the world the past four years anyway. When Master had errands for him, he finished them; but he never interacted with other beings more than was necessary. He had Severus before, but now he had only himself. And even thinking about Severus did not pain him much now; Harry realized that he had almost forgotten about him over the four years. He told himself that he had been occupied by his trainings; although a small part of his conscious made him slightly ashamed to have forgotten Severus. But above all Harry did not _want_ to remember the other man. He could finally kill without vomiting all over the ground now, though partly because it was in warfare, and he knew deaths could not be avoided in a battle. And he finally could stop feeling pain, the pain of betrayal, the pain of feeling abandoned…

However he still never killed more than was necessary for victory, and if Master did not specify, he usually let his prisoners go. A loophole even he was surprised that he had dared to use.

A knock on the door called him away from his thoughts, and he hastily put on his mask. At his permission two soldiers came in, bringing a prisoner with them. They placed him before Harry and left without a word; staying near Harry of the Mask was not something even the vilest creatures would choose to do.

Harry looked at his prisoner of the day; they were usually nobles or generals, as the lesser soldiers were not given to Harry and he could not possibly free all of them. He was a young man of rather pale complexion, with wavy dark hair and a pair of blue eyes. He wore blue armor like all the Allirean soldiers, but he also had symbols of bronze horse sewn on his robes, indicating his high birth. He looked worn, but his figure was erect, and he looked straight at Harry without hesitation or fear. _Though I cannot kill him for you, Master, I would at least question him. _

"What is your name?" Harry spoke softly.

The young man almost jumped at his voice; and, to his great surprise, he started laughing, "One after one we fell down before you…and long had we wondered what kind of beast of man were you, and it turned out that Harry of the Mask was merely a child!"

"Pardon me," he said after he recollected himself, "I am Tom Riddle of Aderyn _(A/N: smirks, surprise, surprise! Now **who** is the Dark Lord?)._ Oh how I wish I would have the chance to tell people that all alone we've been defeated by a boy no older than I am!"

"For a prisoner you certainly are rather flattering," Harry answered coldly, "and you shall have the pleasure of describing your defeat in whatever detail you like."

Tom looked at his uncertainly, then burst into another fit of laughter, "What? You mean I will walk away from here alive?"

Harry decided he was just one of those stupid younger generals, probably got to his position by heritage or hot blood. Such figures knew no more than the superficial facts, which he could deduct himself. Adding the fact that further conversing with him seemed to promise unpleasant talk; Harry decided he might just as well release his prisoner now. He freed Tom from the ropes that bound him with a simple movement of hand, "I am ordered to win, not to kill."

Tom looked at him, "And surely you don't expect me to walk out of this camp with a thousand enemies surrounding me alive?"

Harry looked at him, "No one would dare to touch those that I had set free."

* * *

_There! Another doulbe update! I'm feeling very generous lately And now please review and tell me what do you all think It won't take much time, and it'll make me happy (hint hint)._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Lord Thales was studying the map again when a hooded stranger came in. For a man his age he reacted rather quickly, drawing his dagger and turning to face the intruder.

"Father…" Tom called and drew back his hood.

The dagger fell from Thales' hand, "You, you are still alive?" he murmured.

Tom nodded, "Though not without shame, seeing that I was probably defeated by a boy younger than I am."

"So it was him."

Tom looked up in surprise, "You know him, father?"

Thales smiled bitterly, "Yes, through an old friend and some other businesses. I wonder why he let you off so easily, though."

"I was wondering that too, and when I asked him he said that he was ordered to win, not to kill. On my way here I also met a man who was freed by him, so this might be his own custom. But surely we would have heard of this before now?"

"That might be just as well. But it is not surprising that none of the released generals ever mentioned it; how were they to keep their face while admitting they had been defeated and were spared to live only at a young boy's grace? It would be far better to be thought as dead in a heroically way. I wonder why he wears that mask…for it surely was not to hide his age, otherwise he would have enchanted his voice as well."

Tom looked at his father, and they both looked thoughtful, finally he asked, "Who is he?"

"The most faithful and powerful servant of the Dark Lord, one who was bound to him at birth. And we fear that he may even share a small part of the Dark Lord's power. For him the greenness of the hills and the singing of the birds are alien, the only thing he is familiar with is destruction."

Tom was silent after this, his father's words still ringing in his ears. The words struck fear into the very deepest realm of his heart; but, as his father would have never guessed, they also arouse in him a strange sympathy. _Surely he did not choose this life, just like I did not choose to be the bastard son of the most powerful man in the kingdom._

Tom felt much better the second day, and bumping into a strongly-built, brown haired young man lightened everything up. "Neville!" he called, "I had no idea you'd be here!"

Neville smiled too, but his eyes looked tired, "Times are not good, and I must ride again in three days. But I was most worried about you."

Tom shrugged, "No need to worry about me, where are you going anyway?"

A cloud seemed to have drifted over Neville's face, "Ceres."

"What, why so soon?" Tom turned very pale; remember the terrible fighting he experienced the night before.

Neville smiled wryly again, "I will meet him sooner or later, and the sooner the better since less people will suffer. I am supposed to be the one, right? So of course I can handle a mere servant of the Dark Lord."

Tom looked at his childhood friend, knowing he was not at all as confident as he sounded. And it suddenly occurred to him that Neville was no longer the fun, haughty kid he had played with; he had become a prince, and with that he was no longer a carefree young man living for his own sake. He opened his mouth but was uncertain about what to say, "Um…I'm sure you will, and you darn better, too!" he hoped his voice sounded more confident and joyful than what he truly felt, "Want to swim with me in the river?"

Neville's eyes shone with delight, "There is a river? Of course!"

Neville reached the bank first as he had always done so, but instead of bragging his swimming skills like in the old days, he sighed and said dreamily, "Sometimes I am so tired of this whole thing, being the supposed savior of the kingdom and all…but when I look around me, I see lovely sceneries and lovely people; they are what made me go on."

Tom laughed, "There are also ugly places and awful people, but anyhow you always look at the good in things." Then his smile was gone, "I wish I could be like you, but I just can't do it."

Neville was surprised, "What do you mean? What did that Rider do to you?"

Tom shook his head, ignoring his friend's joke, "Don't you know I'm not interested in warfare and all that?"

Neville nodded, "I remember you telling me once that you much prefer to be a healer, and you are quite good, too. But I thought you were joking then, I mean…"

"I know what you mean: surely the Great Lord Thales' son – even though only son in secret - would be a great general! But I…I mean they know I'm a terrible soldier; they are just covering up for me because of my father. I know I'll screw up one day, and then father would know how incompetent I am…I have wanted to tell him so many times before, yet every time I just couldn't bring myself to it when I looked at his face, full of pride…I know he wants to give me the best, sort of making up for my mother…But how am I supposed to tell him that this is not what I want when he had everything planned out ever since I was born? I thought I was over with it when I got captured then…a heroic death will end all my troubles…but I'm sent back." He smiled bitterly.

Neville didn't know what to say; he didn't ask to be the one the whole kingdom depended on either, and he didn't ask to be burdened with sword practice, tactic training, and bloody wars ever since he could remember. Instead he smiled and said, "Well I guess sometimes there are just things we can't change."

Tom did not speak for a long time, then, with sudden courage, he said, "Don't kill him if you do meet him!"

"What…"Neville was taken aback and then he realized who Tom was talking about, "Are you nuts?"

Tom blushed and muttered uncomfortably, "Hmm, I mean, I suppose he'll have to be defeated, doesn't he? I just thought, well, he didn't ask to be who he is today either…and being raised in that place since he was a baby and all, he really didn't have that much of a choice…"


	8. Chapter 8

_**Warning:** OoCness! (Applies to all future chapters, you've been warned.)_

**Chapter 8:**

Harry looked at the order in his hands and trembled. So Master had caught up with his little game, and he was ordered to kill. For a fleeing second he thought of disobeying, but there came so strong a stab in his heart that it sent him trembling down to the floor. He tried to focus his eyes, now clouded with sparkles, and his head hurt as much as his chest. The ruthless pain did not ease until he persuaded himself to carry out his Master's will. But it was not until much later did he manage to stand up and call for his prisoner.

The old man was a rather dignified one, and had looked in wonder as his conqueror shook before him. All Harry's killings before with the exception of the Serpent Brothers were so impersonal that Harry was not greatly affected; but now, he had actually called for the man and intentionally prepared to kill another being. Harry bit his lips until he tasted the bitterness of blood. _Surely I can do it; I **must** do it_. He took a deep breath, and raised his hand. Moody closed his eyes.

Minutes passed, and Harry's hand shook. Finally he let it fall to his side and spoke in a quiet tone, "Leave, now."

Moody looked at the feared Rider, not sure if it were some sort of evil trick being played on him. Harry's self-control broke down and he shouted, "Go! Leave! Don't ever let me see you again!" Already he felt the pain coming and was much relieved to see the old man run. He let himself collapse onto the ground and was soon consumed by pain. It bound him in every direction, hurt him inside and out; he could not escape from it. He twisted and writhed, biting his lips because his pride would not allow his to call out. He struggled until a troubled sleep took him, and even in sleep he was not free of the pain. It haunted him…

When he woke up again all was quiet, so he figured it must be late at night. He winced as he struggled to get up, still hurting all over, and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. Images of the dream were vivid before his eyes:

_Severus bent down gently and whispered in his ear, "Harry, my only hope, he bonds you not, heed my teachings."_

Harry thought about Severus, and was ashamed that he had forgotten about him. _I am just like them now, cold-blooded and all._ In his tent, surrounded by his followers ten thousand strong, he felt alone. Tomorrow he will rise again like a machine, sword in hand and ready for more orders. One day he would break down, he would bow to the pain and start killing without cause just like all the other dark beings. Funny the world should be afraid of a boy who didn't even have control over his own life. Then he was startled by his own treacherous thoughts: how could he, when Master meant everything…how could he even think about taking control of his own life? _Master gave me everything, Nothing matters except what Master says, and I always obey._ "Always Obey!" he repeated the words until he realized that he was shouting out loud. Panting, he looked outside his tent, nothing stirred. Harry thought about tomorrow again and suddenly it was too much for him. He couldn't face it, and he couldn't take it! He must run away. Maybe he will find Severus, maybe he wasn't dead; and he would listen to Harry and make him feel better just as he always did. Dazed and not realizing the true treachery of his actions, Harry picked up his sword and mounted Floke, leaving the mask behind him.

Thales walked to and fro in his tent, his face troubled. Severus came inside, "Any news?"

Thales shook his head, "No, there is nothing. The only thing we know is that they stopped the attacks three days ago."

"Not a single fighting?"

"None, and I wonder what evil plans they have in motion…I just wish we could find out before it was too late."

Severus looked thoughtful, "Perhaps I should go to Ceres, in case there is indeed some ploy at work."

"That would be me."

Severus looked resolute, "No, the kingdom cannot afford to lose both you and the Prince, besides I've had some dealings with those dark creatures before."

Thales looked at him, hard. Finally he drew a breath, "Alright, I shall send five hundred escorts with you then."

Harry lay on his back, not caring to shield himself from the pouring rain at all. He did not run far and wide as many of his pursuers had thought. In fact he was still in Ceres, less than one hundred thors away from the camp. The pain still held his even when he had decided to desert the army, but it was wearing away more and more now with every second he spent free.

Then the sound of hooves awoke his. It must be another of his pursuers. He got up reluctantly, to hide in the bushes near by.

"Sir, the rain is too heavy, we must stop here." He heard a male voice say.

"Alright, we shall camp here then." A voice answered.

Harry's heart jumped at the voice; it was the voice that comforted his so many times after he was beaten, it was the voice that whispered at his ear. _Severus._

Harry did not think of anything else, his mind only grasping one thing. That Severus was still alive, that Severus was here. He jumped out of his hiding place and ran towards the voice. Five hundred swords came out at once at the sight of this strange being of mud and water running towards them. Harry did not think twice; he took out his own sword and fended the guards off almost effortlessly. All he knew was that he wanted to reach Severus and they were in the way.

"Severus!" he called, clearing a way through the wall of guards as he ran. Finally he was facing him, finally he was within reach of him, and the look on the older man's face made him stop dead.

His face was that of loathe, of pain, or even fear. _Now even you are afraid of me, even you hate me; I am just one of them for you now. _

In his frantic state Harry did not see a young man sprang before Severus, holding his sword threateningly and yelling, "Stay away from him! You killed my sister, I'm not about to let you kill my father, too!" _Sister…kill…_his numb mind was trying to work things out stupidly when a sharp pain in his stomach made his look down. He saw blood pouring out of himself yet he felt strangely detached. Half dazed, he heard Severus stop the young man, "Hold it, he maybe of some use for us later."

To everybody's surprise, Harry knelt down and laughed.

* * *

_Oh, what the heck, I'll just post it since I'm finished anyways. And well, drop a review if you like, I'd appreciate that_


	9. Chapter 9

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Shimei: **Thanks.

**Night-Owl123: **Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!

**Firanza: **Thank you for the compliment, here is the update.

**KittenRebecca: **Thanks for reviwing. As for Dumbledore…well…all I'm saying is that you've seen him already. :P

**Igonia: **Thank you!

_All my reviewers, I'm so honored that you all reviewed. Meanwhile, I'm getting very, very nervous. As I stated earlier, this is a finished fic I wrote a while back…and, well, I'm afraid I didn't put that much thought and energy into it, and the ending is…well…I'm afraid you won't enjoy it…now that I know people are seriously reading this I feel really guilty because I think you deserve a better effort. Meanwhile, though, I really have limited time. So, er, would you prefer fast updates and the original version or slower updates but a better story? **PLEASE let me know!**_

* * *

**Chapter 9:**

Lying on the bed, Harry was fully concisions, but he kept his eyes shut. Finding Severus, letting him forgive his killings, his betrayal of Master had become the thing that most occupied his mind that realizing even Severus had turned from his shattered him.

"Harry?" Severus called so gently that Harry opened his eyes.

"Look, I don't want to bother you," he began uncomfortably. _Then why are you here?_

"You are most kind, but as I am quite alright, you can fire away," he replied politely.

Harry stretched and sat up on his bed; he felt much better physically, but his mental state was still an agony. He opened the windows with a flip of his fingers and felt the refreshingly cool night air.

"How is your wound?"

"Almost healed I should think," laughed Harry, "and as I did not have the pleasure, could you kindly tell me who gave me that blow?"

"It was Burr, though you must not blame his rashness, having his sister and niece killed and all…" Severus said the words in a strange tone, and his lips trembled.

_So I killed his sister, poor man, how many more like him will come?_

Harry shook his head gravely, "Severus, you hurt me dearly; you know I wouldn't blame him for such things."

"Sometimes I really wonder if I shall ever get to know you."

"If you don't, then who does?" Harry looked up to him, the play-acting gone from his voice, "Tell me, Severus. Tell me who I am even if I am just an evil little vile creature!"

"If I knew, I would have made up my mind a long time ago."

"Look Severus, I've been thinking about myself ever since I left Master…and I think that I wouldn't have liked killing even without you. It's not about good or bad, I simply have a physical repulsion to it. But then, I also have to suffer as much pain if I disobey Master…that was why I ran away, I didn't know what to do…you don't know how sick I got when I first killed…that woman, and his child…their faces haunt me."

Severus did not trust himself to speak.

Harry sighed, "So what are you going to do with me?"

Severus knew his choice then: he would not trouble the boy's heart deeper with that secret, and he would not hold it against him. He inhaled deeply, "Harry, you are not evil, you are not like them. You are not bound to the Dark Lord, choose a life for yourself."

Harry was stunned at the answer he sought so long after, almost disbelivingly. Severus looked at him, the killer of his daughter and grandchild, flesh of his own flesh, but the hate was gone. "Harry," when he spoke again, his voice was calm, "You must leave now. I don't care where you go, and I know you won't go back to Him so technically I'm doing nothing against my kingdom…but you must leave, for even though I may have believed in your humanity, most others don't."

"And where am I to go?" he smiled bitterly back at him.

Severus knew he would never be able to live as a normal boy, to start a life anew. Instead he snapped, "And since when has self-pity taken over you? I've gotten my own head to risk, too. So be swift."

* * *

Harry rode on the horse Severus had provided him; he didn't know where to go. And as Rhiamon was the only city he knew, he decided to go to the capital. And there was another reason: he longed the strange one-eyed woman he had met; he wanted to know more about his own origin.

Again he found himself wandering alone the Bronze Walls of Rhiamon. Nothing had changed around here, but there were few people now. A depression had settled in that carved the shadow of war at every place in the kingdom. As if waiting for him, he found her; standing at the spot that was exactly where he had first saw her.

"I…" Harry didn't know how to start.

"So you are wondering who you are, Harry. You look just like your father."

Harry did not ask how on earth she managed to know his name; he had expected such wonders with her all along. "You knew my father?"

"Yes, he was just a little older than you are now when I saw him the first time, I remember him vividly: holding his first child, his grey eyes full of fear and awe…for I had told him his own fate as candidly as I did yours."

"Who was he, what happened to him?"

"He killed with his wife, Lars. Did I tell you that? That's the name he planned to name you."

Harry felt strange; he was Harry, and he felt no connection with that name at all, "What about me? Why wasn't I killed?"

"The Dark Lord sensed the power in you, though he hardly guessed who you really were. He thought he could use you, and he did make sure that you are forever bound to his servitude by bathing you in the Dark River and performing an ancient ritual."

"So that's where the pain comes from…" and before he finished his sentence, it came, commanding him to kill the woman before him. Harry rolled on the ground, blinded by the pain. No, I won't. _You cannot control me. I will not kill her!_ The pain retreated, but his ears were filled with that drawing tone again, "Harry, listen to me, you are my most faithful servant…you always obey…" It bound him, making him feel extremely happy at the thought of carrying out that great being's will. Harry realized fearfully that despite himself, his trembling hand went for his sword. He felt himself gather the power, ready to kill. He knew there was no way he could stop himself; he was His, after all. Just then a thought lighted in his head. _Yes, it must be the only way. If someone must die, better me than her. You will never have me!_ With that he gave in a little deliberately and drew his sword. But instead of striking a fatal blow to the old woman, he drove it at himself.

The sword stopped inches before striking him, Harry panted and sat down.

The old woman was as calm as ever, "What happened?"

Harry sighed, "Well, just as I was about to kill myself I realized that I was doing what_ I_ wanted to do. And as I was no longer under his control, I thought it wise to save my life for later use."

She smiled, "Well done."

"But…are you sure that Ma…uh…the Dark Lord doesn't know who I am?" remembering his speech four years ago, he added, "You know, about my being the one…"

The old man's voice was sad and genuine, "I wish I could say that…"

"But how can it be, I mean the prince…"

"Prince Neville is indeed a very powerful young man, but he was never confirmed by the Mirror. He is unusually gifted with the power, but not to the extend of being the one."

"The mirror? The Mirror of Awena? Then he knew! Because I was told to steal it four years ago."

"Yes, it turns golden at the sight of the one."

"Why didn't you explain things last time? Then I would not have given him that mirror" Harry asked sulkily, yet he knew he was not ready four years ago.

The woman seemed to being guessing Harry's thoughts, for she merely smiled.

Finally Harry murmured, "But I can't…I know nothing about this place and, and its people…"

"Lars…"

"No, Harry." Harry replied quietly. Their eyes met, and finally the old woman nodded. They spoke no more. Harry knew she wouldn't tell him any more information (a bad habit of those seers, they liked to drop just half the information and keep you in the dark); yet he should be able to find out about his parents from other sources since they were obviously of some importance. For now, though, he bade his farewell and rode; he knew where fate would lead him now.


	10. Chapter 10

_I'm sorry for the incredibly long wait. I'll try to get a few chappies up this weekend. I have been sick and school has been quite busy. I don't think I can revise this story w/out rewriting the whole thing....so I guess I'll just post the original one for now and maybe revisit it later when I'm done with my main project at the moment, Choice. _

**firanza**: Here is the update. **  
ladyraebef : **Well...I'm glad you liked this story, though I can't say the same myself. This is my very first work and now I look back there are so many things that need improving...I just don't want to let my readers down at the end, ya know. **  
KittenRebecca : **heehee, I think you are right about DD. **  
Night-Owl123 : **Here is the update. **  
Shea Loner: **Well, he is...sort of**  
Igonia : **Thank you. I really tried to improve this story, make it work...but when I look at it I see so many shortcomings that I almost want to give up... I'll try to edit it to the best of my abilities...but I don't think I'll revise it in a great detail until....say much later when I'm done with my main project, Choice.

* * *

****

**Chapter 10:**

Lavender hugged her mother, quite lost in words. The ominous news was in her trembling hands, a black envelope with the blood-red mark just like the previous ones. Three brothers and a sister, how many more would they take? But soon this would be all over; she would meet with them again. She knew the defense of the village would not hold much longer, and that ruthless invaders would soon come.

It was not long until she heard the screams of village people and saw the dark figures advancing. She picked up the small sword Dag made her; hopeless though the situation may be, she was not about to give up without a fight.

Even so she almost dropped the sword when she beheld the image of the giant of man that was advancing towards them. Yet somehow she managed to fend his first blow. Her hands shook from the force, and her arms felt numb. Her opponent raised his sword again. Lavender knew then that she could not block the blow, and she prepared for its coming. But it never did; instead, when she looked up she saw a young man on a brown horse standing before her, and her attacker was no where to be seen. Lavender stared at her rescuer; he was rather slander and pale, not someone you would expect to be a fighter. Their eyes met for a moment, and before she could say "thanks" the man and the horse had leaped outside the house.

Lavender ran to the door in excitement and saw in awe as the boy rode towards the black stream of Dark soldiers. The fierce invaders seemed to be greatly disturbed by the sight of him and were shouting things in their own foul tongue. Then, to Lavender's uttermost amazement, the man dropped his sword and raised both of his hands. Lavender felt an invisible force swept through her, making her fall backwards to the ground, though she sensed no hostility in the magic, mere indifference. It, however, was not the case with the Dark creatures; they gave out a cry of hopelessness, and the next second they were gone.

The village survivors ran up to their savior as soon as they recovered from their initial shock, and he jumped down from his horse. After making sure Mother was alright, Lavender ran to outside, too. She scowled as she saw people looking up at the young man timidly, not daring to speak. "Hey," she called.

Harry turned and saw a small girl with ginger hair.

"That thing you did…it was very cool…"

"It was only a small group of them, no more than one hundred."

"Is that how Prince Kerr fights, too? I mean the force and all that…"Lavender's eyes shone.

"Lavender Brown, let us thank our savior first," the village head snapped in.

Lavender rolled her eyes; _where were you before now?_

Harry shook his head, "I did but a small thing, no need for thanks." The villagers offered to have his stay the night, and Harry thought it best to accept it. At the small party held after dinner, Harry saw the ginger hair girl make way towards him

"Hey I'm Lavender."

"I'm…Harry."

"Oh you know the thing I was about to ask you before the Head cut me off, the Prince…"

"Oh," Harry scratched his head, "Well I would think he'd work that way too, since it's the same kind of power."

"But he will be much more powerful, right? They say he can defy an army of ten thousand! And that he is as strong as the mountain and as radiate as the sun!" Lavender's eyes grew dreamy.

Harry smiled a wry smile, "Er, I supposed so. Why? Do you fancy that Prince of yours?"

Lavender stuck out her tongue, "Bah…it's not _that_! But everybody here fancies him anyways. They say he is just and brave, but also loving and gentle. They say he treat his soldiers like brothers."

Harry looked thoughtful; softly he probed the girl on.

Lavender hardly needed any encouragement as she continued with great enthusiasm, "Well and the tidings are turning for the better now. We've managed to win back a few cities and that cursed Masked Rider had disappeared!"

"Indeed?"

"Yeah at first we didn't know what was going on, but they stopped fighting us for a whole five days! The Prince then took the initiative and forced them to fight – he won, of course – and the word got out that the Masked Rider was gone!"

"The Masked Rider…is he really that bad?"

"Bad? He was horrible! You don't know him; he rides on a terrible black warhorse with blood-red eyes and wears a mask of black fire. Worse, he kills men like stepping ants: some say he leaves no survivor and a whole army turns into dust at the wave of his hand."

"But that's not true! I mean…how can that be…"

Lavender nodded importantly and gravely; in her excitement she never saw the tightening of the jaw or the pain in Harry's eyes, "That is the truth…but of course he's no match for the Prince, and I think he probably got the wind of his coming and fled. Lucky him…because I bet anyone here would have loved to tear him up alive!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

Neville looked around and found Tom in dire trouble. He sent his power there, shattering the two Dark creatures Tom was battling with. But almost at the same time two men fell at his side. Yet Neville didn't have much time to dwell on them, for a group of enemy soldiers had just blew a hole on the gate. He frowned, rode over the bodies, and spurred on, for only he could do what swords and arrows could not: penetrate that thick layer of armor they had around them. Still, Neville felt his power draining, sweat was blinding his eyes; it had been the hardest battle he ever fought since the War began. He knew the most feared Rider was not there, for he was one of the few that knew what happened to Harry of the Mask, but he and his men was outnumbered perhaps fifty to one. How the enemy knew his whereabouts he had no idea, but he was sure this assault was more of an ambush for himself than taking the small city that had no strategic value what so ever.

Neville felt his horse panting, but he drove her on. There was no time to lose; he had to arrive at the gate before any could enter. Suddenly Ayiana neighed and fell in a thud, taking Neville with her. Neville jumped just in time to avoid being caught under the fallen horse. He had no time to check his five-year companion; instead he jumped onto one of the wandering horses and rode on. He hit the horse with his sword tilt, putting his sympathy for the animal away. But already he could see the enemy enter; only slightly thwarted by the arrows that were now showering towards them. Neville threw away his sword and raised his hands. This was too far, he knew. But still he concentrated, reaching inside for whatever power was left in him. He inhaled deeply, directed the power, and let it go. His hands swayed a little at the last second, and the force hit only half the enemy that was pouring in. But it was enough to slow them down, for the wall was also hit and huge stones now blocked the way. Neville wiped away the sweat on his forehead, almost too weary to stay on the horse.

Just then he heard a roar of triumph from the Dark soldiers. _This couldn't be, they hadn't entered the city yet_, thought Neville. Looking up, his heart fell as he identified the source of their confidence. The Masked Rider had returned, though now un-hooded and mask-less. He wore the black armor robe that had become part of his symbol, and under him the great warhorse neighed. In his hand was the black sword, his cold green eyes shone strangely. He came thundering through the dark sea of enemies – and turned towards them!

Harry closed his eyes, his mind concentrating on only one thing. He held his sword out, and let the power go. For a few seconds there was a great uproar, then it was all silent. The black army had vanished, only dust fell. The city was silent; people watch in total shock as he turned his horse towards them. A few soldiers nocked their arrows.

"Stop!" called Tom, recovering from the shock, "Let him in!"

Harry rode through the city streets; silent or even hostile eyes greeted him. He tried his best to hold his head high, and was much relieved to see Neville and Tom starting towards him. "Can we, huh, talk inside?" he asked, giving his surroundings a glance.

Neville nodded in understanding. He waved for Tom, and the three walked into a tent Neville had made on the wall.

"Sorry I wasn't here sooner, but I don't have Floke anymore, and it took me a while to, er, persuade your messenger that I really was on your side."

Neville still stared at Harry with opened mouth, so Tom took on, "Hum, thanks. Your presence was much a surprise to us…"

Harry nodded, but he did not explain himself further. Instead, he said, "You have little time to lose; the enemy's plan is in fast motion. And, and I can help you."

"And why should we need your help?" Neville asked coldly. Tom looked up at his friend, surprised at his unusual outburst. "Neville?"

"And don't you try to give me advices, too!" Neville snapped, and with that he stormed out of the tent.

But before he went far, Harry was caught up with him, he whispered so that only Neville would hear, "Prince, I have no doubt that you are the one, and I am not here to challenge your position. Bear your people in mind when you reconsider my proposal." Before Neville could answer, he turned and left; the Prince looked furious with himself.

Harry looked up at the stars that never shone on the Other Land, only sitting up when he heard someone coming over.

Tom sat down near Harry awkwardly, "Hey."

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I, uh, I just want to apologize for Neville, I mean…it was not like him at all, he's usually very open-minded and friendly."

"No…I understand."

Tom looked at him, "But I saw you today…You wiped out that whole army with a flip of your finger."

Harry laughed and shook his head, "Nah, it was harder than it appeared."

Tom stared at Harry, hard, "But are you the one?"

Harry looked at Tom, so the young man was perceptive, after all, (really, Neville shouldn't have made such a scene, for his action was only adding fume to the few's doubts) "Why? I didn't think the Prince's best friend would start doubting his status…"

He might have said more, but Tom would never know, for at that moment Neville appeared. "Hey Tom!" he called, then noticing Harry, "Oh, _ you_, er…good evening to you." He looked from one to another, "What are you doing here?"

Harry smiled, "We were just recalling some interesting past encounters we've had, good night to you all."

Neville watch his go, then he turned to Tom, "Well, Tom, I mean, I'm sorry…"

Tom waved his hand before he could finish his sentence, "It was no big deal."

Neville sat down on the grass near him, "Well, Tom?"

"What?"

"You, you don't doubt me, do you? I mean, you know I'm the one, right?"

"Hum…sure, of course you are."

"But today when I saw Harry, I knew I could never do that…maybe that was why I was so rude to him; he made me think that maybe I'm not the one after all…"

"Well, I thought you didn't like being the one…"

"I _don't_. But…look, I've been raised knowing I'm the one ever since I could remember; everything I did was to prepare myself for that job…today is when I first started doubting myself; I was afraid…because I don't even know who I am if I'm not the one!"

"Well, Harry probably just had some power from the Dark Lord you know…"

"No, we use the same power; I could sense it…"

"But even the Council said you are the one."

"But they never had the mirror to confirm it, and the silver horse never showed up to me…it shows up for every savior, so the prophecy said."


	12. Chapter 12

**   
Dawn Dragon: **Thank you for reviewing!   
**Igonia:** Thank you for reviewing! Yes, I did consider doing that or just taking the whole story down. However, I thought that might not be fair to the readers and I did promise myself that I'll finish every story I put up. And also the rewriting would probably not take place right now with school and Choice...and even if I start rewriting that'd take a long time as well. So unless you all are willing to wait a few years, I'm putting this version up first. It really is my own fault, though: I should have never put this story up in the first place. I knew it wasn't good...but I didn't expect people to really like it. So now my conscious is kicking in and demanding me to edit it.   
**Night-Owl123:** Thank you for being such a faithful reader.   
**Lap : **Thank you for reviewing, that is high praise indeed. (blushes) This is my crude first attempt and I really am not very personally satisfied with it. But thank you for the encouraging words and this is not a shameless self-plug, but you are welcome to read my other stories, which I found more satisfying.

**Warning: **A little hint of pre-slash at the end (a rather poorly-done one at that, too! which is the reason why I stared hatefully at the chapter and hesitated about putting it up for so long....it is things like this that makes me realized how much I've improved since then).

* * *

**Chapter 12:**

Tom was awakened by Neville's excited yells; he sat up on his bed, "What is it?"

Neville was holding something small and radiate, "It came to me! It was near my pillow when I woke up! I waited for so long that I thought it might never come!"

Tom stared at his hand and gasped, "The...the horse!" And indeed in Neville's hands was the small silver horse, its green eyes glittering. Tom tried to smile, "Well, you see you shouldn't have worried, the horse wouldn't have showed up for you if you weren't the one."

Neville nodded and smiled, "I need to apologize to Harry now, see you around."

Tom finally found Harry alone at the wall, "Hey, Neville got the horse today."

"Yes, he told me."

"You...didn't happen to hear our conversation last night?"

"What conversation?" Harry asked innocently.

Tom sighed; but before he could go on, Harry spoke again, "Tom, Neville need your encouragement now more than ever. Help him, he need to believe in himself."

"What about you? Do you believe in yourself? I know you possess more of the power..."

"It doesn't matter. Look around you; you see their love for him. They are his countrymen, his subjects, and his soldiers. They'll spill their blood and ride to war with him. They believe in him."

"Harry...who are you really?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I suppose you'll have to let Thales and Severus know about me, and the Council, too, possibly," he added after a moment of silence.

Tom groaned; he could just imagine the fun of testifying over a group of skeptical old men – or worse, his paranoid father.

Neville called to them a moment later, announcing their departure. He was in a significantly improved mood and even winked at Tom as he and Harry came over. Tom, on the other hand, blushed to Harry's utter amazement.

* * *

They rode in urgency and silence, which was much preferable to Harry than the wild talks they had earlier. Soon the walls of Ceres were in sight. Harry thought about Severus and how strange their next encounter would be, and he smiled. He turned to Neville and Tom, "I'll leave you to explain everything to Thales." Then he gave them a very wicked smile with his teeth showing and left them. 

The city was much the same as the night he left it, and Harry found Severus's quarter with little effort.

"Severus!" he called at outside so that he didn't need to deal with the soldiers who were looking at him suspiciously.

"What are you doing here?" the older man hissed.

"Well, I've come back to help you," Harry replied brightly, "Neville and Tom are trying to explain things to Thales, meanwhile."

Severus looked at him fixed-eyed, "What are you up to again?" He shook his head and let Harry in.

* * *

Harry put down his quill; in front of him was a pile of parchments. He had just drawn a detailed map of the Dark Land as none had ever done before. Looking up at the moon, he decided it must be passing midnight now. He stood up and rolled the map along with strategies the Dark Army was likely to use; he would give them to Neville the next day. 

He was just about to blow out the candles when he heard a small knock on the door. Harry opened to door to find Tom. "Oh, do you want to talk to me about something?"

Tom looked uncomfortable, "Oh, I saw your light was on...I didn't disrupt you, did I?"

Harry shook his head; there was something strange about him.

"I, well, I just want to thank you for helping us."

"No need to be grateful," Harry smiled.

Tom smile back, "I shall not bother you further then, good night."

Harry watched as he fled; something must be wrong with the other man. The way he looked at him, it was almost like – Harry blinked – like the people in the market. Harry closed the heavy wooden door absently. He sat down besides his desk and started to organize his parchments.


	13. Chapter 13

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**

**SlythsRule :**Thank you.**   
Night-Owl123:** Thank you for reviewing!**   
Lap :** Heehee, thank you for reviewing!

**This fic is finally ending soon, thank you all for your support! **

Chapter 13:

Severus was half-expecting the visit when Harry knocked on his door.

"I know it's late...and if I'm bothering you I can come tomorrow," the boy had innocently asked, all the while settling comfortably into the best armchair in the room.

"Harry..."

"I know, I know you are wondering what on earth am I doing here...well, like I said, I've come to help you all out. Why? Because I recently acquired certain information..." at that, Harry broke into a wry smile.

"Harry you must realize –"

"That not everyone is going to be happy with me here? Oh sure I know that, what with all the stares and looks; they are not exactly the subtle type, the people here, you know?" he laughed his mirthless laugh again and gazed into the fire.

There was an uneasy silence, and Severus was rather glad when Harry spoke up again – although he immediately regretted thinking so when he heard what the boy was speaking about.

"Do you know James Potter? Or Lily Potter? Surely you did, I can see that from your expression...how can you not? The Kingdom's most noble defenders...most loyal..." the strange smile is gone from his face now, and he whispered the last two words in so sad a fashion that Severus suddenly understood.

"You...I mean, they are –"

"Yes, they are my parents, apparently. And no need to dance around it; I'm not going to break down on you – not again, anyhow." Harry stood up from the chair and walked about the room, deep in thought. Then he stopped abruptly and turned to face his one time mentor, "There was an ambush, wasn't there? All the Potters are declared dead, martyrs…"

Severus stared at the boy with mixed emotions; he could only image the emotional turmoil Harry must be experiencing. A thousand questions flew through his mind as he recalled the Potters and their association with the prophecy. A question rose in his mind; which, as he realized now, had always been in his unconscious thoughts; it's just that he had believed the obvious and never allowed it to surface, "Harry, are you... are you the one?"

The wry smile is back again, "Why? All the so called loyal followers of the Prince seem to be asking me this question lately, is this how you show your faith in him?"

"Harry, this is serious..."

"Well, I am serious. I don't know...are you asking if I am the One in the sense of the prophecy? Then I could have been, couldn't I? All the infants born that year could have been...But things change, fates change...For all we know, Neville is the One right now. It could have been meant for me, but it doesn't matter now."

"But what if he does not have enough power to defeat the Dark Lord?"

"No, he doesn't. And neither do I. But together, we do...it is time people stop putting all the responsibilities and hopes on one person; for a war cannot be won by one."

"But the prophecy..."

"The prophecy said that the one will be able to reunite the kingdom _and_ lead to the fall of Dark Lord, for that only Neville will qualify."

Harry's voice rang in the room. He, however, merely shrugged and placed a dozen parchment on the desk, "Here are some maps and strategies I can think of."

Severus raised one questioning eyebrow.

"Well, as you said, I don't really expect Thales to use _my_ ideas."

"True...which reminded me...Harry, Thales is very bent on upholding his nephew. By now he should have heard of the story already, and he'll view you as a threat no matter what."

"I know...I really do," Harry answered, "Still, I want to see if things could turn out differently, see if I could stay." Before Severus could speak, the boy had on the cheerful mask again – the moment of vulnerability lost, "Well, we shall see, won't we?"

With a big smile he walked across the room and bade Severus goodnight as he did so many nights before at the Dark Land, all with the air of someone carefree at heart – although Severus did notice that the smile never quite reached his eyes.

* * *

Reaching for the door, Harry sighed. As soon as he opened it, a dagger flew towards him – faster than lighting. It was too fast for anyone to react on the spot, yet Harry was ready. He merely raised one hand, and the dagger fell as dusts even as it pricked the skin of his finger, leaving only a crimson spot. Harry looked at the young man before him, who was obviously scared by that show of power but yet was still trying to appear brave. 

He tilted his head to one side as he recognized the man, "Burr? Was it not?"

"Do what you want, just be done with it!"

"How did you know which room is mine?"

"I heard Lord Thales discuss it."

"I see…" Harry narrowed his eyes, the young man before him was but a tool, yet the implication of Thales' setting him up was not nice. He smiled bitterly as he pushed a startled Burr out of his room and shut the door; if his guess was correct, he would be expecting more – "visits" soon.


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm sorry about the delay, but my fanficiton-writing is a purely underground thing and I hadthe chapterdone earlier but just couldn't find an oppotunity to sneak on to ff. net. Then ff. net was having some checking up, I think, so I couldn't update. But here is the chapter Enjoy**

**Igonia:** Thank you for the review. And yes, you are right; I probably wouldn't have wanted to rewrite this story had I not posted it. Remember the horse Harry got at the very beginning when he first met the one-eyed woman? Yep, that's it! As for the "the one" issue, yes that makes my head ache and I could never understand why I wanted to play with that in the first place. However, my logic was that Harry was meant to be the one at birth, gifted with special prowess. Later, because of the Dark Lord's kidnapping, he is no longer the one. The people support Neville (see Lavender); Tom and Severus only doubt him because they know both Neville and Harry quite well. Other people idolize him. Besides, the kingdom does not like Harry that well – he did kill a lot of them, after all. So Neville will have to be the one to unite the kingdom. Does it make sense? At least it did to my twisted mind at the time I wrote this thing. signs At any rate that is Harry's interpretation, so I can always blame him for being illogical. hides behind Harry And I'm rather flattered that you think this is an unpolished diamond, and I'm glad to hear that you still like it. I wrote it when I was still not fully in command of English, and I wrote it as a sort of a challenge with my friend: we were each to complete a story in English within a month. So you can probably tell that I spent more effort in the beginning, whereas near the ending I rushed a bit due to the time limit (which is the reason why I update slower now: I will do major re-writing later, but I simply cannot stand the original versions of the late chapters. I edit them so that at least they don't have lots of grammatical mistakes and naïve, unpolished sentence structures). Anyway, thank you for your continued support; otherwise I might have burned this story in shame long ago.

**Night-Owl123:** Thank you for reviewing.

**Lap:** LOL thank you for the review! I am sorry this chapter was not up sooner, but I do try my best .

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**Chapter 14:**

Sitting comfortably in the armchair, Harry was about to go to the bed when a figure slid into the room. It was several weeks since he came to the city now, and he was only surprised that it did not come sooner. Noiseless and invisible in the shadows, Harry gazed on.

Curiously enough, though, the figure merely took off its hood; silvery hair shone in the moon light. "Harry of the Mask," it inclined its head.

Harry raised an eyebrow; he always liked dealing with interesting people, "And you would be – "

"Draco Malfoy at your service – although that is of no importance. I am a messenger of the Council. I regret the lateness of the visit, but it did take a while to get through all the guards placed by Thales." The other man straightened himself elegantly.

A shadow settled over Harry's face at the mention of the Council. "What, then, is their business?" he asked coldly.

"The Council knows of your powers, as well as the grudge Thales holds against you... why waste your talent here, in a place its value unappreciated and unwanted? The Council can provide you with some sight into your parentage, as well as opportunities to make use of your powers."

All the while Harry listened, his face impassive. However, as the blonde finished, he broke into a harsh laugh, "And here I thought the Council and the Royal House are on the same side." Before Malfoy could speak, he waved his hand, "No, I understand what this message promised. But seeing as I know my origin quite well and am content with my present situation, I see no reason why I should comply with the request."

Malfoy simply bowed again.

This time Harry was surprised, "Aren't you going to persuade me more?"

"As I said before, I am merely a messenger. And would more words really change the opinions of those like you?"

"No, they wouldn't." Harry agreed.

"I do, however, wish to obtain a reason of this rejection if possible – I do have a boss to report back to."

At that Harry laughed, this Malfoy was interesting indeed. Had the time and place been any different, or had he been any other person, he would have no doubt wanted to befriend the other man. His features, however, hardened at the thought of the Council, "Simply tell them that no Potter will serve the Council again."

If Malfoy inferred anything from the message or knew of the Potters, he did not show it. Instead, he gave another bow and left the room as quietly as he came.

Just as he left, Harry was rudely interrupted yet again by knockings on his door. Opening it, he was surprised to find a group of well-trained Royal Guards, with Lord Thales at their head.

"I was informed that you were conspiring with dangerous individuals."

"Well," Harry arched his eyebrow and replied, not without a tad of sarcasm, "Seeing as I am powerless against you all, why don't you come in and have a good look?" Inwardly, however, he was impressed by Thales' spying network; Malfoy just barely got away.

The search, of course, wielded no result. Thales, however, did not leave after ordering his men out. "I know you are playing games; however clever you are, I will not allow you to endanger Neville's position."

"I certainly was not meeting dangerous individuals; unless, of course, the messengers of the Council could be counted as such." Harry replied smoothly, smirking as he saw the other man pale. "And a very generous offer, too," he added, baiting Thales.

"What…you…"

"Oh…I did not form any traitorous alliances, as you would put it."

"But, why?"

"I have my own reasons against the Council; if you have to know, look into the ambush of the Potters… I think you'll find some satisfying discrediting materials for your use."

Thales had to stare at the eccentric young man, "Who are you? What is your design here really?"

"I have no harmful intentions against Prince Neville, that's all you need to know. I am not here as a threat, but as an ally." Harry let his voice ring with power and integrity, letting Thales know what he could have done had he meant any harm.

Thales was silent for a long time before he spoke again, rather quietly, "What, then, of my son?"

Harry widened his eyes in surprise; that was a topic he did not expect the other man to bring up, "What of him?"

Thales, however, merely broke into a mirthless laugh, "Don't tell me you did not see it... I do not know what you did to him, but he's been having this unnatural – uncalled-for...this _fixation_." He spat the word, his face bright red, "A father's eye is not blind; I see the signs. Whatever you are doing, I'll stop you at all cost. Return my son to me."

"I have done nothing," Harry tried to reply detachedly, although he was deeply troubled by the words – _what had he done now?_ "I mean no harm to your son; there is nothing –"

"Mean no harm? Have you ever thought about what would happen to him if anyone were to find out? Half the country has their loved ones killed by you, the whole army is boiling to attack you... do you know what would happen if he associate himself with you? It's not that simple; you can't just be rid of all you've done because you changed your mind. People do not forget. It is not a matter of my own personal trust; it's the kingdom's that you have to win." With that, he turned, leaving a brooding Harry behind.

Harry sat down absently; had Thales' words really been true? Either way the conversation had brought him to the severity of the consequence of his past actions. He had thought he could leave the past behind, and that the people would too – but had he been too naïve to hope that? He thought of the pain, the voice, and anger rose in him: _those people did not understand; they had no idea what he had to go through to leave the Dark Lord. Why don't they try to be raised and bounded by the Dark Lord and see what would **they** do?_

Despite his rage, however, the face of the girl staring helplessly at him appeared in his mind again. His very first kill… the one he had never managed to forget. She was cowering behind her mother, her face dirtied except where it was washed clean by tears. And her mother, her mother was begging; her bony hands around her daughter in a mother's last attempt to protect her. But all was in vain, he had not relented... he can still remember the grief and forlornness in her eyes as he raised his hand –

"No," Harry whispered and vainly tried to shield the images from his vision. _He didn't know better, he was controlled. It wasn't his fault, he – _Suddenly he broke into a laughter, "You will never leave me in peace, will you? That was your own very word, my eternal curse..."

Recollecting himself, he sank into the chair besides the desk and started to organize his parchments; his brows wrinkled deeply in thought.


	15. Chapter 15

**Igonia: **Thank you for being such a faithful reviewer! A fluffy anonymous savior? He actually does kind of do that, as you will see in this chapter. As for the Dark Lord, yes he is dear Dumbledore – nothing against him, I was just playing a small joke to myself when I wrote this.

**Lap: **Thank you for the compliments (blushes), and thank you for being so supportive. I have never seen Gundam Wing actually. As for why I did not like this part of my story? You shall see in this chapter... (gulps)

**Lady Cinnibar:** Thank you for reviewing!

**diaper-baby:** Thank you for the compliments, and I am finishing this story (sweats), although many of you may find the ending unsatisfying. But that is how I wrote it, and I found it difficult to just change the ending alone. Although I do plan on a rewriting sometime in the future.

**Night-Owl123:**Thank you for being such a faithful reviewer!

**A/N (Please read):** Please don't hurt me…and please don't hate me for doing this to you. I've tried to soften the blow by giving you many warnings, and I've tried to delay this day by adding many things into this little fiction. But, (gulps) I suppose we can say that everything has to end sometime? (cringes and hides behind her desk) I know this is sudden, and much is left undeveloped – now you should understand why I hated the last part of my story so much… Please, however, believe that I did not write this thing up just now because I'm tired of this fiction and want to end it once and for all; I would never do something so irresponsible to you. As I said before, I've already added a lot of things to make it look less sudden. But I do understand if you feel betrayed and/or enraged by such a sudden ending, so you can flame me if you really feel the need.

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**Chapter 15:**

Tom looked around him; he was still fighting by Neville's side, as were their best soldiers. But their number was small. The Dark Palace was in sight now, the eerie green fire of its gate burning – just as Harry had described. He heard Neville gave a frustrated sigh and gave his friend a quick glance of understanding. He knew how Neville must be feeling – being able to end this all with his power but doing nothing excepting fighting in the ordinary way and seeing his own soldiers fall. Yet they both understood that Neville must reserve his strength – for the final encounter with the Dark Lord.

Harry's strategies and maps had helped them this far, and the fate of the war would be decided in this battle, the kingdom's own attack upon the Dark Land itself. Tom smiled wryly at his own thought, who could have thought? It was a goal people couldn't even dream of achieving, yet here they were, fighting on the strange and bare land.

Just then Tom saw Kerr in dire danger and yelled to warn the man. He was too late, however, and the soldier fell before he could reach there. He furrowed his brows as sweat almost blinded him; this was not going well, at this rate Neville will have to risk using his power to end the battle before too many of their men were killed. In his heart however, he had secretly hoped that something would show up. He knew it was ridiculous to think so, and he really shouldn't count on that hope. Yet ever since five years ago, there had been a mysterious warrior who left no name and fought the enemy at dire situations. They had never met the warrior, as he tended to avoid battles where they were present – whether by coincidence or by choice no one could tell. Although Tom had certain ideas of whom that person might be. Harry had left just as abruptly as he came right before the mysterious fighter surfaced. Tom knew Harry must have his own reasons for leaving, yet he would like to know that at least Harry was able to find peace with himself and pick a side, not wandering with internal turmoil he was so accustomed to.

Realizing he was still in battle, Tom quickly brought back his attention and only narrowly missed a blow. With the edge of his eye he saw Neville drop his shield and knew that the Prince could wait no longer and was about to use his magic.

Yet before Neville could act, a power wave hit them all. Tom however felt no hostility in it and saw in his amazement as the enemy turned into dust. Without turning he knew who was there, and his heart pounded.

Harry of the Mask appeared before them, slowly pulling back his hood.

"H-Harry," Neville began.

"There was no time to lose, follow me," Harry merely replied coolly, as if his presence was nothing surprising at all. Saying so, he turned and started walking towards the Castle, confident that they would follow.

Neville looked at Tom and back at other soldiers, then he followed. As they walked on, even the most suspicious followed once the Prince did. Harry expertly pointed out deadly traps and enchantment along the way. And he must have used some short-cuts, too, as with what felt to be less than an hour, they were already on the edge of the Dead Forest and could hear the roar of Arwan.

At that Harry stopped them and addressed Neville, "A few more step, and the River's power will be felt. It shocks all that are weak into its current, so be wise in you choice of who should accompany you and who should stay; you wouldn't want them to lose their lives pointlessly."

"Harry I thank –"

"No...listen. I knew little about the castle as I was always received at the throne room in the first floor. He may meet you there, He may not. In that case you will have to find him though the Palace. Be sure you have enough torches, as in it you will know the meaning of true darkness. And beware of his voice."

Tom stared, the implications of the words dawning on him, "Are you not coming with us?"

Harry looked at him sadly, "No, I think not." He then turned back to Neville, his face deathly pale, "Fetch your sword, Prince."

"Harry?"

"This is the land I grew up on, after all...I have to defend it," Harry unsheathed his own as he spoke, a lone figure against the army, before the gate of the Dark Palace.

"But I thought you broke the bound between you and the Dark Lord..."

"This is not the Dark Lord's doing but my own. How can you preach love to me if I were to turn against the man who raised me and see the very land I grew up on destroyed?"

"Harry –"

"Unsheathe your sword, pass me and you can enter the castle. After that," he paused, looking into Neville's eyes so the other would see his sincerity, "good luck."

Tom looked between the two, and was horrified to see Neville drew his sword, his face grave. Without a word they began, each blow a combination of physical force and magic. Tom found himself hardly able to stand, and many lesser soldiers were clinging on to rocks for support. Despite the swirl of powers, he gazed anxiously on, not wanting either to be hurt.

Neville dodged a small force Harry sent his way, but before he could recover another was directed at him. He knew it was too fast for him to dodge, so he concentrated and unleashed a counterforce. He had no idea what would happen yet he knew it was his only hope, though in his heart he knew he had lost; Harry's force was much too strong.

Yet the clashing of the two forces never came, for Harry's had turned at the last second and went astray. In dream-like slow motion he saw his own hit Harry squarely on the chest – who was sent over the bridge without a yelp. But before Harry could fell, Neville heard a yell and someone flew to Harry's aid – Tom.

Not hearing the cheering of the other soldiers, not even aware of anything but Harry, really; Tom caught his hand. Arawn called to both of them, but Tom held on. He called over the river's roars, "Wait, Harry, hold on."

The other boy just shook his head. He raised his other hand, directed the power that was still in his command, and separated himself from Tom, falling into the river with a splash. Tom stared at his hand where the force had dwelled, it was so gentle that it almost felt like a touch of wind; _why?_

Wordlessly, Neville put his hand on his shoulder. When Tom did not stir, he sighed, "He had to go; I suppose he's been trying to find the balance between his loyalties for a long time...he could have beaten me, the last blow was fake."

Tom didn't trust himself to speak. He looked at the men, whose faces shone with hope and confidence, and realized what Harry had done for them; he had won Neville the trust that was essential for their victory. With a nod he stood up, "What are we waiting for then? Let's go."

– **_Finis – _**

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**_Important A/N:_**_ Just to make you feel better, when I was writing it, I had felt that Harry wasn't really dead; it was only Harry of the Mask. Harry did so because he had to be cleansed by the river and thus be rid of his past sins/responsibilities. Ever since his birth his fate was governed by an outside force and not his own. By dissociating himself from the past I had hoped that he would be able to start a life as he wanted it. Yes, call me twisted, but I hope this explanation made you feel better. _

_**Thank you all so much **for sticking with me through all this! I really did not like the ending (at least no corny last words for Harry!), but I tried unsuccessfully to rewrite it for many times until I realized that I need to rewrite the whole story. And I will do just that sometime in the future. So tell me if you want to be alerted when I do so. _


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